


Nonsense

by valamerys



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Gen, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 05:18:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9705044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valamerys/pseuds/valamerys
Summary: My goofy oneshots from tumblr, collected. Each chapter is a minific; they all stand alone but are too short to justify posting as individual fics lmao. Somewhat Elucien-centric, because that's who I am as a person, but everyone is here, w all the standard ships.





	1. Take The Stairs

“I can use the stairs.”

Elain huffs. “Lucien, that’ll take you an hour.”

“The first hour is always Cassian and Nesta bickering while Rhys makes bedroom eyes at Feyre, anyway.”

Elain smiles against her will, but doesn’t let her mate make any headway towards the enormous staircase of the house of wind. “Luciennnnnnn,” she intones, holding him back by the arm, “Come on. Even Amren has to get flown up. Trust me, your dignity is not suffering more than Amren’s.”

“Amren doesn’t have a giant Illyrian with a personal vendetta to—“ the booming sounds of wings cut him off as two figures in black descend with a leathery _snap_ before them, siphons glinting. “—To make my life difficult. Hello, Azriel.”

Azriel and Elain exchange polite hellos, but Cassian is sporting what can only be called a shit-eating grin.

“Cassian,” Lucien finally adds.

“Lucien. Darling.”

Elain tries not to giggle. Cassian delights in good-naturedly antagonizing her mate; Lucien always gives as good as he gets, but the odds are a little stacked today.

Cassian holds out his arms, expression smug. “Shall we?”

“I’m afraid I have to beg your pardon, Commander,” Lucien says with faux apology, their game begun. “But I was just about to ask Azriel to take me, and you to take Elain. I just thought it made sense, given that I’m heavier than Elain, and that Az, I’m told,“ —appraising glances at both Illyrians— “Has the larger wingspan of the two of you.”

Elain has to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing, and even Az’s spymaster composure cracks.

Cassian’s smile has tightened, and his mouth purses as he decides his retaliation.

“I understand,” he says finally, nodding. “It’s perfectly normal, the first time you feel something like this—“ he gestures between them, “—to be overwhelmed by it. If you’d rather seek shelter in Azriel’s arms for the time being, I won’t judge you.”

Lucien’s shoulders shake with suppressed laughter, but he stares up at the sky like he can will himself away from this conversation. “I’d really like to know why we’re having the meeting in a house that only four of the nine people attending can easily access,” he muses.

“And I’d like to know why you’re denying the passion between us, princeling.” Cassian puts an offended hand on his chest. “I won’t wait for you forever.”

Elain is reduced to a fit of giggles that makes Lucien smile wryly too.

“Shall we leave these clowns to their antics, Elain?” Az asks, extending his arms in polite offer.

“Alright, alright,” Lucien relents, laughing. “Let’s go, Cassian. My mate’s about to abandon me.”

But Cassian crosses his arms, mirth still in his eyes. “Oh, you think you can just get a ride whenever you like? That wingspan comment was rather offensive. I suddenly don’t feel like taking you anywhere.”

Lucien groans. “What now? Are you going to make me beg?”

“That would be a start.” Cassian examines his nails uninterestedly.

“Please, Cassian?”

Cassian ignores him.

“Please, _Commander_?”

Nothing.

Lucien rolls his eyes. “ _Please_ , o beautiful and powerful Illyrian warlord with shoulders that shouldn’t fit through doors and an abdomen made of solid steel.”

Cassian arches an eyebrow. “Getting closer. What are you asking me, Lucien? Be specific.”

Lucien heaves a sigh of defeat. “I’m asking you to wrap me in your big beautiful arms and _take me_. Is that the kind of homoerotic answer you were looking for?”

Cassian’s grin returns in full force, and his wings unfurl anew from his back. “Yep, that’ll do.”

Elain’s face hurts from laughing, and it only gets worse as the Illyrian sweeps Lucien off his feet, her mate going stiff and bristling at the motion like he’s an angry red cat.

“Be nice to him, Cassian,” she calls, as Az does the same with her (albeit more gently).

“Don’t worry, I know it’s his first time. I’ll be gentle.”

“If you drop me, I will set you on fire,” Lucien deadpans in response.

“If I drop you, you’ll be dead,” Cassian says cheerfully, and Lucien’s smart response is swallowed by the crack of air under Cassian’s wings as they shoot off into the sky.


	2. Bite Me

Lucien’s at his desk when he hears Elain call him from the foyer.

“In here, dove!” He replies, straightening papers.

Elain bursts through the door with a wide grin on her face and a smear of dirt on her chin, holding something. “Look what I found! We’re keeping him.”

She holds out her arms and in them is something _moving_ , something with reddish fur—

“He was all alone, poor thing.”

The baby fox raises its head, nose working and big dark eyes blinking as it sniffs the air.

Lucien laughs. “Elain, angel, that’s a wild animal, I don’t think it belongs indoors.“

“But look how cute he is,” she coos, and the fox yawns contently as though to emphasize her point.

“Well, that’s trouble,” Lucien says, as Elain pets it, “I’m afraid I can’t handle competition for best-looking fox in your life.”

Elain giggles. “Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite.”

Lucien really should fight her harder on this, but if anyone can successfully domesticate a fox, it’s Elain. She’s already done it once, after all.

He rises from the desk, comes around to get a better look at the little rascal, who’s squirming in Elain’s arms. “What’s his name?”

Elain smiles. “Lucien Junior. Because he’s just like you.”

“Because he’s a handsome redhead?”

“No,” Elain says blissfully, extending a finger to the fox, who gnaws harmlessly at it. “Because he likes to bite me.”


	3. Kinky

Rhys looks haunted.

“Who’s going to tell them?”

He gets nothing but avoided eye contact and silent sips of coffee in return.

“I am completely serious. Someone has to say something and it really shouldn’t be me.”

He had thought that all nine of them of them taking a weekend together in the cabin would be fun–and it had been, until he’d been kept up very late by the half-muffled sounds coming from Elain and Lucien’s room. Not of sex, per say; the cabin provides what soundproofing it can, and it should be enough for all the couples to enjoy themselves without bothering each other, but Elain and Lucien had been doing something… loud. Repeatedly.

Cassian is grinning like a maniac, amused beyond all reason. “Okay, I know Rhys is uncomfortable because he’s never done anything that actually qualifies as kinky, but does anyone else think this is hilarious?”

“I object to that profiling of my sex life, Cassian.”

“You’ve never done anything weirder with Feyre than a blindfold,” Cassian says, eyebrows raised, “I’m not saying there’s anything _wrong_ with that, I’m just saying.”

“A blindfold is _very_ kinky,” Rhys asserts, affronted. Mor snorts and he ignores it, focused on Cassian. “What have _you_  two done that’s so much more exciting?”

Nesta, sitting straight as a queen, speaks before Cassian can. “If you answer that question in front of all our friends, Cas, you will never get to do any of those things ever again.”

“We’re off topic,” Feyre announces, setting down her mug of tea decisively. “The question at hand here is who is going to tell Elain and Lucien that spanking is off-limits during their time here.” Silence. She shrugs. “I think it should be Nesta.”

“I’ll do it if you want, but it won’t go well,” Nesta replies flatly. “I have a hard time not slapping the smirk off Lucien’s face on a _good_ day.”

Cassian brandishes a spoonful of oatmeal. “Well, apparently he’s into that, so–”

“Why not Cassian?” Rhys says pointedly, “Since, as he tells us, he’s  _so_ knowledgeable about the whole area.”

“That would mortify Elain,” Feyre says, keeping them firmly on track. “It should probably be one of the girls.” Amren, in the corner, lowers her mug of blood to look less than enthused. “It should be Mor or I,” Feyre amends.

Mor gives an casual little shrug. “The noise didn’t bother me, to be honest.”

Rhys frowns in disbelief. “Surely you heard it.”

“We did.”

She does not elaborate, and Rhys suddenly finds it suspicious how quiet Azriel’s been, and how he’s not making eye contact. Cassian seems to have the same thought as he glances between the two of them.

“Mother’s tits,” Cassian says, gaping. “You guys got off on it, didn’t you?”

They don’t respond, but Mor reddens incriminatingly. Cassian’s eyes go wide and he throws his head back in a howl of laugher, over Nesta’s protestations.

Amren is surveying all of them with disdain. “I have been present for some truly insipid conversations between the lot of you but I must say, this one is exceptionally awful.”

“Now THAT’S what I mean by kinky, Rhys” Cassian proclaims, wiping tears from his eyes. “Fucking to the sounds of another couple’s pain play. Cauldron. I’m so proud.”

Rhys looks long-suffering as he turns to Feyre, takes her hand, and kisses it sweetly. “I’m so sorry, darling,” he intones dramatically. “I’ve exposed you to a nest of perverts.”

“Who’s a pervert?” Elain asks with a giggle, choosing this moment to sweep into the kitchen, bright-eyed and with a sated-looking Lucien in her wake. “Are we talking about Cassian again?”

But the whole room has gone silent. Elain falters, looking from one awkward face to the next. “What’s wrong?”

When no one answers, it’s Amren who gets up and says baldly to the two of them, “Everyone from here to Velaris could hear whatever it was you were doing last night. It made these fools uncomfortable, largely. Do with that information what you will.” In the shocked silence following, she puts her empty mug in the sink, unhurried, and heads for the door. “I’m going for a walk far away from this nonsense. If anyone needs me, you are encouraged to reconsider.”

The door slams shut behind her.

“Oh,” Elain says faintly.


	4. Secrets

Az has more secrets than anyone in Velaris, but Mor’s never seen him like this about one before. It’s subtle, as Az is wont to be—Mor might not pick up on it if she didn’t know him as well as she does—but he’s reveling in it; a smirk plays at his lips, his eyes glint in smug satisfaction as he watches her silently try to form a guess.

 _There’s someone I’d like to you meet_ , his note had said, with a request for her to come over. So Mor had knocked on the door of his condo by the river for a drink she’s almost finished with. But he still hasn’t given any indication yet who he meant, and the mystery is slowly eating at her. Is it an old friend? A lover? She cracks first, bringing it up before he does.

“I think you enjoy keeping me in suspense a little too much,” she says playfully, swirling the remains of her wine in its glass.

Az gives a arch smile into his whiskey, elbows rested on his thighs where he sits on the couch. His shadows swirl languidly around him, content. “Can you blame me? The Morrigan knows all, it’s fun to see you squirm for once.”

Mor gives a soft, surprised laugh: he really is in a good mood. Az doesn’t often _flirt_ with her, in any traditional sense; he tends to vacillate between stoic loyalty and broken devotion. It’s a delight to see him truly relaxed, but even if she’s hardly ever felt possessive of Azriel—and she _shouldn’t_ , for cauldron’s sake, they’re not _together_ —the evidence of how happy this mystery person clearly makes him sends a little twinge to her gut. She does her best to ignore it.

“Az, come on—who am I meeting?” She insists good-naturedly, reaching to touch his arm, “I’m dying to know. Five hundred years of you keeping your lovers secret and there’s finally one you want us to meet, they must be—“

Az bursts out in choking laughter, putting his drink down so he doesn’t spill it. “You think I asked you to come over so you could meet my secret lover?”

“Or—I don’t know, a friend, maybe—“ Az is still laughing, and Mor has to laugh too at his reaction, gestures wildly. “But what was I supposed to think?”

“Alright, I—“ he tries to collect himself, chuckling. “I surrender. I’ll go get her.”

Mor has a moment to sit in her own bewilderment—it’s a her? She’s here? She hears him murmur sweetly from around the corner, and it compounds her confusion until she sees him return.

Mor can’t help but let out a little delighted gasp. “Az, you got a _cat_?”

Azriel is grinning, and in his arms is a tawny bundle of fluff who blinks sleepily in Mor’s direction. “This,” he takes her tiny little paw with his free hand and waves it in Mor’s direction, “Is Sacha.”

Mor squeals girlishly, is crossing the room to fawn over the little angel before he even finishes saying her name. “She’s precious,” Mor coos as she pets her.

“I woke her up from a nap to meet you, so she’s a little tired.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sacha,” Mor whispers sweetly, “You’re much cuter than any of Az’s lovers would be.”

He laughs, and Mor’s heart swells—she’s more relieved than she might have guessed that _this_ is the secret. And his clear adoration for the kitten is as adorable as the kitten itself.

“Here, sit down,” He prompts her. “She’s a lap cat.”

Mor complies and Azriel gently puts Sacha next to her on the couch—sure enough, she yawns with her little pink mouth, and, after a moment of investigation, decides to pad her way into Mor’s lap, a warm little weight that starts to purr furiously. Sacha’s small but almost grown, though still possessed of kitten gangliness and big liquid eyes.

Mor melts, stroking her downy fur. “Az, she’s perfect.”

The smile that spreads across Az’s face is like honey, slow and sweet, and it makes Mor feel warm down to her toes.

“Do you want to see the cutest thing you’ve ever seen in your life?” He asks, almost conspiratorial. He murmurs to one of his shadows, and it snakes out, runs across the floor—

The kitten perks up immediately in Mor’s lap.

She laughs as the shadow wiggles and dances, and the kitten takes off after it, on the hunt as Az directs it across the room, under chairs and over tables, Sacha pouncing and bounding after it. Her paws swipe uselessly through the darkness when she catches it, and Az is right—it’s the cutest thing Mor’s ever seen.

**Author's Note:**

> visit me in the tumblr trashcan @ valamerys.tumblr.com for this kind of ridiculousness on the reg.


End file.
